


Jangmagic

by ACatWhoWrites



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cats, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Gen, Shamanism, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACatWhoWrites/pseuds/ACatWhoWrites
Summary: Jongdae does something (he's not entirely sure what) and gets hexed by his brother to turn into a cat only when in the rain.It's monsoon season.Not everyone is sympathetic.





	Jangmagic

**Author's Note:**

> (prompt no.153) _Jangma_ (장마) is the Korean for the East Asian monsoon season, particularly the June-July period of heaviest rain.

For as much as he loves his home and his country, sometimes Jongdae really wants to move.

The sky is gray and heavily packed with gray clouds that blocks out the sun and makes everything dingy, sleepy shades of let’s-not-get-out-bed-yet-it’s-still-early. Except it always looks like that for weeks, so Jongdae’s sleep schedule gets messed up, and he’s late or too early or simply doesn’t know what day it is, because they all bleed together with the constant napping weather.

Jongdae rolls his head side to side on his arms. “If it rains...for _one more day_...I may do something drastic.”

“It’s June, Jongdae. Monsoon season? Happens every year…” Joonmyun replies, not unkindly. He’s not terribly fond of the constant wet from the season—poetically referred to as “plum rain”—either, but it eventually passes, and then they complain about the stifling August and September months into the comfortable fall, somehow always unprepared for the sudden onslaught of frigid winter.

Jongdae’s groan rises into a sobbing whine. “Why does monsoon season even exist? It can’t be healthy, all this water.”

“The Earth is mostly covered in water. Humans are made up of mostly water, too. More is better than less.”

“You’re a water element, hyung.” Jongdae morosely zaps the condensation left from his glass on the table; not even the little sizzle can make him smile with the weight of humidity and misery on his lips. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Impure water like this is a conductor, Dae. You should be happier.” Pure hydrogen-hydrogen-oxygen water is an insulator, but the little dissolved things like chemicals and minerals and pollution are the real conductors. Jongdae’s managed to send a single current of electricity across an entire parking lot because of the numerous puddles.

“Well...I’m _not_. Water is meant to clean, to drink, and to ski on. It’s not meant to just hang in the air or try to drown me on the street.” He throws his head back to look at his brother. “I saw a duck _swimming_ in the gutter. That’s too much.”

“At least it was a duck,” Joonmyun sighs. “This season is dangerous for animals, especially in the city. City animals don’t always know how to cope like those in the country.”

“I am sorry, but I’d rather a stray dog drown than me. No offense to present company.” The company mentioned are a pair of large dogs and a small tuxedo cat Joonmyun took off the street and paid a lot of money to de-worm, alter, and vaccinate. Their tails wag at the attention, unaware that Jongdae wished their deaths to spare his own.

Joonmyun pets the cat’s spine, smiling a little when its rear end presses back against his palm. “Kim Jongdae, you will experience the monsoon from a whole new perspective.” Thunder rumbles; Jongdae can feel it shake the table beneath his arms, and the hairs on his arms stand with the electricity in the air and something else.

“I don’t mean to be an unsympathetic jerk, hyung. You know what I meant—I’m tired of not seeing the sun for more than a couple hours at a time. Even if it doesn’t rain, it’s cloudy and always muddy from the last rain.”

“Your troubles may not seem so bad when you look from a different point of view.” The cat stares at him through barely-opened eyes, perfectly still on Joonmyun’s knee.

“Okay…” Thunder booms louder, and the dogs whine, burrowing beneath the low table and knocking over empty mugs. “That’s my cue to leave. I’ll be seeing you, hyung.”

“Be careful, Jongdae,” Joonmyun says. He stands and follows Jongdae to the front door. “Some puddles are deeper than they seem.”

“I’m not going to drown in a puddle,” Jongdae assures with a laugh. He can see the cat out of the corner of his eye. It watches him tie his shoes. “I have my reputation to consider.” He waves and leaves, walking faster than usual to slide into the elevator car before the doors shut. It’s just two stories to the ground floor, but he tells himself he’ll need that little bit of saved energy to run back to his own apartment.

The crowds outside have thinned, anticipating the coming storm. Colorful umbrellas have popped open all over, looking like a field of spring flowers.

Thunder rolls over the city again, following a flash of lightning that cracks the heavy clouds for just an instant.

This is Jongdae’s favorite time. No rain, yet, just the lightning and resounding call of thunder. He’s never been afraid of it; it’s a pleasant noise, he thinks.

He’s nearly home when the clouds open and drop sheets of rain onto the city. Those without umbrellas huddle into their raincoats or try to outrun the wet with a newspaper or purse held over them. It’s a futile gesture; Jongdae accepts his inevitable wet clothes and runs as fast as he can to his building.

It seems to get bigger and farther away the more he runs towards it, though, until it just seems to loom impossibly high. Puddles have already reached his ankles, and he trips on the lip of a hidden pothole, falling a very short distance. He sits up, shakes his head, and tries to brush the dirt and mud from his front, but he doesn’t see his hand. It moves when he thinks to move his arm, but at the end of a short, sodden leg is a furry paw.

Turning to look at his back, he sees more than he ever imagined he could, nearly turning completely around. Orange stripes decorate his shoulders and back, all the way to the end of a twitching tail.

“Dammit, Kim Joonmyun!” Jongdae yowls, unheard beneath the clap of thunder, applauding his brother’s apparent hex.

Jongdae picks himself up, instinctively shaking each of his paws before setting off again at a run to his building. It’s closer than his brother’s, and—after he nearly falls into the surging gutter—it’s safer, too.

The front door to his building is covered by an awning that doubles as a balcony for the sitting area on the second story. He sits beneath it and stares at the door, willing it to open.

A girl around his age whom he doesn’t recognize comes charging up the steps and shakes her umbrella, throwing even more water onto Jongdae. He mumbles unhappily, and the girl gasps.

“I’m so sorry, kitty! I didn’t see you. Did you get locked out?” She holds the door open, and Jongdae enters with as much dignity as a soaked cat can display. “Tell your mom to get you a warm towel, okay?” She apparently lives on the first floor, heading down a hall to their left. Jongdae lives with his friends on the fourth floor.

He hears the whir of the elevator and bolts for the doors, ready to slip inside when they open. No one steps out; no one is inside, either, and the car remains stationary even when the doors are closed. Until someone calls it, it’s going to stay where it is, effectively trapping Jongdae.

Jongdae the cat is a good three feet too short, even stretched out on his hind legs, to reach the panel of buttons. He sits with a huff and shivers. The air conditioning is always full blast in the elevator and lobby, yet the apartments themselves are often stifling. It makes no sense at all.

He tries stretching out again, no taller now than a couple minutes earlier, and sits again. Staring at the panel, he imagines the button for the fourth floor and presses it, but he’s not telekinetic, so it does nothing.

Cats are good jumpers though, right? Jongdae’s seen cats leap between bookshelves and up and down trees. Baekhyun even frightened his mom’s cat so bad, once, that it jumped straight up higher than Chanyeol is tall.

Bunching up his shoulders, Jongdae sets his feet a little bit apart and shoves off the floor with his hind feet. His paw smacks a button, lighting it up for a second. The doors are already closed; they stay closed.

Trying again, he hits the keyhole used in emergencies. Would a starved cat in an elevator be considered an emergency?

 _Just one more…_ he tells himself, coiling his entire body as taut as he can. Zeroing in on the fourth floor button, he launches himself and catches it squarely beneath his forepaws, hitting the OPEN DOORS button as well as EMERGENCY CALL.

A voice crackles through a speaker as the doors open. “Is everything alright?”

“Just fine,” Jongdae meows.

“Hello? Does someone need assistance?”

Jongdae cleans a paw until he realizes he’s using his tongue. “Nope. I’m good.”

Finally, the doors close, and the car begins its ascent.

He doesn’t know how tired he is until he’s sitting in front of his own door. The handle is out of reach, like the elevator buttons, but he can hear Baekhyun yelling at his computer game and Chanyeol picking at the strings of his guitar.

He could wait like he did outside. People are in and out all the time. He just wants to go to bed, though, and sleep until monsoon season ends. Even his passionate anger towards his brother has dimmed to a flickering candle flame.

Getting on his hind legs, Jongdae throws himself against the door and slides to the floor, dragging his nails and howling as loud as he can.

A couple doors open down the hall. The guitar playing stops, and Chanyeol tip-toes to the front door. He’s a bit of a chicken when it comes to loud noises. When he’s close, Jongdae sticks his paw under the door.

Chanyeol opens the door and stands stupidly while Jongdae enters, rubbing against his legs in thanks.

“Baek? Did you forget to let the cat in?”

From his room, Baekhyun shouts, “What?”

“ _Did you forget to let the cat in?_ ”

Baekhyun sets his headphones aside and leans out his door with a frown. “Chanyeol, we don’t have a cat. You’re allergic, remember?” His friend points to the sofa, where Jongdae is curled up on a cushion. “Don’t just let it on the couch! It’s soaking wet!” He runs to the bathroom. Chanyeol just shrugs. How was he supposed to know? He just answered the door.

Armed with a towel—Chanyeol’s, naturally—Baekhyun approaches the tabby cat. “Hey, cat,” he says softly. “Just gonna dry you off, okay?”

“Be gentle with me,” Jongdae mews. He lets himself be picked up but wrinkles his nose at the rather harsh rubbing, as if Baekhyun can force the wet away.

“What are we going to—” Chanyeol sneezes and sniffles—“do with it?”

“I dunno. He seems friendly enough. Maybe he’s Jongdae’s...” He squints at the clock on their Blu-ray player. “Where is he, even?”

Jongdae purrs, feeling warm again. “I’m right here, idiot.”

“Maybe he’s waiting out the rain at his brother’s.” Chanyeol goes back to his room.

Baekhyun sets the cat back on the sofa, tucked in the towel both to protect the cushion and keep the cat somewhat contained. “I’m gonna text him.”

“Whatever,” Jongdae yawns. He squirms until he’s in a ball, shuddering when cool air hits his damp fur. If he’s lucky, he’ll wake up, and it’ll all have been a dream.

He isn’t lucky, though. He never has been.

He wakes up to screaming, and someone throws a pillow at his face, screaming again for good measure.

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae grumbles, sitting up. “What the hell is your problem? I’m _tired_.”

“Whathappenedtothecat?!”

“... _What?_ ”

“What happened to the cat? It was just there.” Baekhyun holds his phone in both hands. “I was just taking more pictures and posted them; then I look up, and now the cat is you!” He gasps, terror replaced by growing glee. “Was the cat _you_ you? Did you get hexed?” he exclaims with too much glee. He leaps onto their opposite sofa and hollers loud enough for their entire floor to hear, “Chanyeol! Dude, get in here!”

“Why? My eyes are killing me.”

Baekhyun waves a hand limply. “You’ll be fine. The cat is Jongdae.”

“What?” Chanyeol almost trips over himself, but sure enough. Jongdae is partly wrapped in his towel on the very same cushion the tabby cat had made itself to home on. “Jongdae, that’s just mean.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Jongdae balls up the towel and throws it to the sofa arm. “It must have been my brother…” He groans and rubs his eyes.

“Why would Joonmyun hyung turn you into a cat?”

“He didn’t turn me into a cat himself, but he must have done something to make _water_ turn me into a cat. Because I just said that monsoon season is awful for everyone, and I’d hate to be an animal outside.”

“You know he’s sensitive about that,” Chanyeol says softly. He had helped Joonmyun carry the strays to Joonmyun’s apartment and into the vet clinic. They were absolutely wretched back then. Chanyeol’s allergies didn’t even kick in, because they were in such a state.

“He’s sensitive, alright,” Jongdae mumbles. He pulls out his phone, grateful at least that he changed with his clothes rather than leaving them behind, and calls his brother. It goes straight to voicemail, so he sends a vehement text expressing his exact feelings. “This had better not be permanent.”

“Look on the bright side,” Baekhyun says soothingly, patting his knee. “You’re a super cute cat.” Jongcat graces Baekhyun’s lockscreen, a content smile on his sleeping face.

“Hey. I’m cute no matter what.”

“And better a cat than, like, a weasel,” Baekhyun adds. “Which would also suit you.” Chanyeol nods. They’re taking it better than Jongdae initially did, but finding out about a hex to someone else is very different from finding out about one on one’s own self. Baekhyun and Chanyeol are familiar with the Kim brothers’ frequent feuds. The novelty of their magical mishaps has long since worn off.

“Is this just rainwater? _Any_ water? What if I drink water? What am I supposed to do?” Jongdae asks. He throws his phone at the sofa cushions. It bounces to the floor, and he can't be mad. “He’s _ignoring_ me, the jerk.”

“I guess we just find out what’s safe. Maybe it’s a one-time thing.”

“Not with my brother,” he scoffs.

Chanyeol steps into their kitchenette and returns with a bottle of water. He cracks open the top and hands it to Jongdae. “Drink this.”

Jongdae eyes it warily. “Why?”

“Start small? Although I really can’t imagine Joonmyun hyung preventing you from drinking. He’s not that evil.”

“Says you.” No one knows Jongdae’s brother like he knows his brother.

Drinking water seems fine. Spilled water is, too; Baekhyun bumps Jongdae’s elbow as he’s drinking, spilling a lot of the water down Jongdae’s chin and to his lap.

When he stops coughing, Jongdae punches Baekhyun’s arm, but his friend is too into his experiment to complain much.

“So drinking water and dumping it on yourself is okay—!” Baekhyun catches Jongdae’s arm before he can pour the rest of the water on him. “This is good! This is progress! We’re like scientists searching for truth of some unexplainable event.”

“It’s not unexplainable. It’s my brother being a jerk.”

“Just go shower. Then the big things are out of the way.”

Jongdae watches the water uncertainly.If he changes into a cat in the shower, he is going to be so much more pissed.

Cautiously, he puts his hand beneath the spray and waits.

Seems okay.

Stripping off his underwear, he steps in and faces away from the showerhead, ready to bolt if he starts to shrink, because he is not taking chances on getting stuck in the bathtub butt-naked and screaming for help, cat or no. He wasn't not sure if he's better off locking the bathroom door or not. Baekhyun's pretty good at picking locks, anyway. 

But the shower seems safe. He lathers shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and even face wash, and rinses it off with no problem. He actually feels more human once he’s done.

Baekhyun was apparently waiting for him to change; he has his phone out and facing the bathroom door when Jongdae comes out and has the gall to look disappointed. “Shower water is safe then, huh?”

“Drinking water and showering in it are good, yes.” Jongdae shakes his head, flipping his wet bangs out of his eyes. “Maybe it’s just the rain.”

“How are you going to avoid it, though?” Chanyeol looks out at the heavy clouds. “It’s monsoon season.”

“I’m well aware of that. I’ll just become a Boy Scout and always be prepared.” Since middle school, his mom would badger him about keeping a folding umbrella in his backpack. Now, he has a really good reason to do that. He doesn’t mind getting wet now and then, and he rarely gets sick, but he likes being human.

Someone must have heard his whines and taken pity, however, because it stays relatively dry for most of the week except for a sunshower carried by a single cloud that literally followed Jongdae home—Jongdae suspects it was sent by his brother to be his personal mini monsoon of misery. Chanyeol burned it up and tried to dry Jongdae as well, singing his whiskers and earning sharp claws to his ankles and shins.

Joonmyun, when he finally agrees to see his brother, is unhelpful and needlessly cryptic about the whole thing.

“It’s a lesson, Jongdae.”

“Teaching me...what, exactly?”

“Tell me when you find out.”

Jongdae stress-pets the dogs—the tuxedo cat avoids him, choosing to stare from a bookshelf—but doesn’t find an answer, so he makes a rude gesture behind his brother’s back and says he should be getting home. He can feel the electricity in the air again. Another storm is rolling in with its usual inconvenient timing.

 

The rain comes early.

“Oh, _come on_!” Jongdae shouts, streaking across the lawn. No one has time or sympathy for a soaked, screaming cat, apparently. A few people even _laugh_ at him, and if he had the time and wasn’t in danger of getting washed down a storm drain, he’d go puke in their shoes. Even as a human. Those heartless dicks.

He finds shelter beneath a stone bench and shakes his feet miserably. Tucking them beneath himself, he sourly watches the downpour.

If the weatherman can be trusted, Jongdae is in for a long, wet night. Not knowing the extent of his hex, he’s not sure if he can wait it out—so he’ll return to normal beneath the bench and then turn right back again, because of the rain—or if he has to _do_ something to change back. The first time, he fell asleep and woke up normal.

He can’t sleep outside, though, much less in the pouring rain.

Maybe some kind soul will take him in for the night. He’s a cute cat—Baekhyun had taken 57 photos of him and posted them on his SNS with vague captions that got friends and followers asking about his new furbaby.

Chanyeol cuddled with him so much he had to take an allergy pill, which apparently took him out for a while and let Jongdae sleep in peace.

He’s so caught up in his ruminations that he doesn’t notice the rain has stopped striking the ground around him thanks to an umbrella.

“Hey there, handsome.” Jongdae opens his eyes and would think he was dreaming, if he wasn’t so wet, hungry, and bitter. “You get stuck in the rain?” He’s really cute and young-ish, anyway; he has a backpack and, better yet, a large umbrella sitting on his shoulder acting like a water-repellent turtle shell.

“Yes!” Jongdae meows and stands, stretching before rubbing the really cute man’s shins. People like when cats do that. He puts all his effort into it, dragging his cheeks along the man’s pantlegs and catching his knees with his tail and reaching at his hands with a paw. “Please take me with you.”

The stranger carefully steps over him, taking his umbrella with him and leaving Jongdae once again in the rain. “It-It’s miserable out here,” he says, “especially for a cat. If I take you with me, will you not pee on my things or shred my blankets?”

“No promises, but…” Jongdae purrs uproariously. It stutters a bit when he’s lifted; it’s still a really weird feeling, but then he’s cradled and cautiously pet behind his ears, and Jongdae would marry this man if he could. His savior.

He doesn’t coo at him like Baekhyun or Chanyeol did, once they had settled down about a tabby tom marching into their apartment. Once Jongdae’s comfortably against his shoulder, he stands and heads away from Jongdae’s apartment, so he doesn’t live in student housing or the neighborhood a lot of students rent in. Maybe he’s older than he looks.

“You know,” the man says, “I actually used to be afraid of cats. Still pretty careful, honestly. I adopted one a couple years ago, though; she lives with my parents, now. I didn’t want to make her move again when I transferred here,” he continues conversationally. “She’s a good girl; a good cat. My friends said she suited me more than any dog.”

“Dogs can be real jerks,” Jongdae agrees. He flinches at the bit of mist that sprays him and hangs from his whiskers, shifting to settle a little more in the man’s hold. Turning around, he still recognizes the area they’re walking in; there should be a museum nearby and a street famous for its shops. It’s a bit more glamorous than the area he lives in, but even splitting rent three ways, he and his friends sometimes struggle to pay their rent and bills.

“Here we are.” His house, an actual house, skinny and squished between its neighbors but still a house, is white and has a short flight of steps leading to the front door. The narrow walkway between the houses seems to lead to greenspace, probably small gardens.

Inside the house is very neat. Jongdae immediately notices the tidy bookshelves, apparently sorted by size and then color, and has the urge to switch just two books. A hinged frame displays a college diploma beside a photograph of the man in graduation robes.

KIM MINSEOK.

“Let’s get you a towel…” Minseok has removed his shoes and hanged the dripping umbrella over a rubber boot mat. He carries Jongdae to the bathroom, grabs a towel from a pile, and walks back out to the living room with the neat bookshelves. Jongdae’s wrapped up like a burrito and placed on a fluffy rug. “Just stay here and dry off, okay? I’ll be right back.” He shrugs out of his damp shirt, picking up a few things he probably thinks Jongdae will otherwise chew on, and closes the door to the bathroom behind him.

Jongdae hears the shower turn on and settles more comfortably in his towel. It smells like plain detergent, nothing flowery or anything like his mom buys.

Distant thunder roars, shaking the ground. Jongdae can feel it in the floorboards and slithers out of his warm towel to sit by a door made of glass and look out at the sky. The rain is lighter, at least. Maybe it’ll be done during the night, so he can go home. With only two instances of his hex to work from, he doesn’t know how long he’ll remain a cat or what will trigger a change back, but he’s pretty sure no one would appreciate a strange man appearing in their home during the night, no matter how young and handsome he is.

But there’s nothing to do but wait. Minseok is still in the shower and will probably check on him before going to bed. Jongdae will wait until then.

After a military-length shower, Minseok is back in seemingly no time at all. He picks up the cat towel and catches Jongdae to rub him down with it, because, “I’ve never seen such a messy cat. Why don’t you dry yourself?”

Jongdae still refuses his new cat instincts. There’s a cricket somewhere beneath the bookshelves, and he’s certain he could catch it, but one grumble from his gut, and he stomped the instinct into the ground.

“Are you hungry? I have some hamburger; it should be safe for a cat.”

Maybe this man is a mind-reader. Jongdae has noticed some books on magic, mostly history books, although few people have how-to magical guides. Those are more for tourists and hobbyists.

After devouring a pile of burger, Jongdae gratefully winds around the man’s ankles and makes himself comfortable on the fluffy rug again. He purrs at the careful hand down his back, then Minseok turns off the lights and goes to what Jongdae assumes is his bedroom.

 

Third time’s a charm, as the saying goes.

Jongdae wakes up during the night, stretches, and knocks his head on the underside of a table. “ _Ouch!_ ”

“Who’s there?”

The accusation reminds him that Jongdae did not strike his own coffee table—they don’t own a coffee table—he’s not at home, and he’s no longer a cat. Lights turn on in the bedroom allowing Minseok to walk into the living room, but Jongdae sees the baseball bat in the man’s hand when lightning flashes outside.

“Who are you?”

Honesty is the best policy. “My name is Kim Jongdae.”

“How did you get in here?” Thunder rumbles dangerously.

“Well, that’s kind of a funny story…”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“I can see that, and I’m sorry for waking you, but please put the bat down, and I’ll explain—”

“Just get out of my house.”

“I really don’t want to get wet again…”

“Tough luck. Get out, or I’ll call the police.”

“Now, you’re being unreasonable. It’s _raining_ outside.”

“It’s going to start raining in here.” The bat slaps his palm threateningly. Jongdae doesn’t like raining water; he likes raining pain even less unless it’s in Black Ops.

“Would you believe me if I said _you_ let me in?” He looks confused, disbelieving, and then closed off again. He can’t be much bigger than Jongdae, but he has a greater presence, especially when armed.

 _Oh, well_ , Jongdae thinks. _Seeing is believing._ “I’ll go, but please have a heart…” And let him back in before he drowns in mud puddles.

The man opens the door, letting in a harsh wind and stinging rain. Jongdae steps onto the porch and down onto the grass, looking over his shoulder at the giant stranger who’s glaring into the night.

With the most pitiful meow he can manage, Jongdae drags himself back towards the door and paws at the glass, leaving muddy prints.

“How did you get outside? Following the weird man?”

Jongdae should have turned on the lights before going outside; Minseok didn’t even see him change.

And he called him _weird_. Rude.

“It’s raining outside, cat. Cats don’t like to get wet.”

“No,” Jongdae meows, “we really don’t.” He shakes his feet and shivers.

“Come on,” Minseok says. “I’m sure you’ll hate this, but it’ll get you dry faster.”

Jongdae sits perfectly still as he’s blow-dried, turning his head to dry behind his ears and beneath his chin. He actually rather likes the feel of his whiskers being blown back; it kind of tickles.

“I’ll admit, I haven’t been around many cats, but I don’t think I’ve heard of many that enjoy something like this.”

“Everybody’s different,” Jongdae purrs. He spins to sit with his back to the dryer, watching their reflection in the mirror. Now, he wonders, if it’s his sleeping and waking up or drying off from the rain that makes him change. One is more convenient than the other, especially when someone else’s home.

“There. You’re dry.” He hits a button to retract the cord, gets up to put it away, and returns to the same stranger sitting in the middle of his living room. “You, again.”

“Me, still, actually.” Jongdae sits up on his knees. “Again, my name is Kim Jongdae, and my brother put a hex on me, so that whenever I’m in the rain, I change into a cat, because he wants to teach me something.” Top that, sibling rivals.

“Bullshit.”

“Please don’t make me go outside again, just to prove it.”

“How could your brother turn you into a cat? That’s impossible.”

“It’s difficult, maybe, but not impossible. And it’s the water that causes the change. Just rainwater. I’ve tested it.”

He nods slowly, probably wishing for his baseball bat again.

“Look, if I can prove a bit of magic to you, will you just let me stay until the rain stops? Please?” He doesn’t get a no, just a disbelieving frown, but he’ll take it. “Look at this lightbulb above us.” Jongdae focuses on the filament inside, overwhelming it with electrons until the bulb goes dark with an audible _pop!_.

“I’ve been meaning to change that one for a while.”

“Okay…” Jongdae rubs his hands into the rug until sparks fly. He catches them on his fingers and holds his hands a little ways apart, letting the blue lights arc between them.

“Static electricity. It’s not magic; it’s science.”

“Yes, but I am literally _holding_ the charge—Know what? Forget it. You’re impossible.”

“I’m not impossible; I’m practical.” He sits on the sofa across from Jongdae, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. “My family descends from mu. My little sister is a practicing mudang, even. They believe one all-powerful being created everything, yet Koreans’ God is different from others’, who supposedly did the same thing and produces the same miracles of healing and whatever.

“I’ve never liked that, ever since I was little. Lucky for me, it’s typically the female offspring that continues the mu line. I could, if I wanted, too, but I’m not interested. Selling special, blessed tea that’ll cure your cold when it’s the properties of the herbs in it. Stuff like that. Smoke and mirrors.”

“Is that how you explain everything you don’t understand or can’t control?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you don’t know it, or it doesn’t work for you, it’s a trick. That’s essentially what you just told me, and I don’t think that’s fair—to you or to practitioners of the various shamanism and magic.”

“I get that it comforts people. I understand that. It also drives them to segregate themselves from someone with different values or beliefs, though. It hurts and helps but is only told to help.” He shakes his head. “It’s fake. It’s harmful to put so much faith in something so fraudulent. It’s wonderful if it works for you, cheating people out of time and money, and you can still live with yourself. I just know I couldn’t.”

“Wow. That is really sad. Is that why you have so many books on magic but haven’t read them?”

“How do you know I’ve not read them?”

“The way the dust sits. There’s a lot of nervous energy; they want to be read.” Jongdae has a pile of books at home that call to him every night, begging to be read, but he’s very good at ignoring them and weighing them down with even more books.

“Suppose I believe you about all this. What does your brother expect you to learn?”

Jongdae shrugs. “Haven’t the foggiest idea. How wet a person can get without an umbrella in the rain and how strong gutter currents are? That the depth of mud can be deceptive? That’s all things I knew before.”

“Well.” Minseok claps his hands on his thighs and stands. “I’ve never met a burglar or voyeur before, but I believe you are the worst at both.”

“Thank you?”

“I still don’t believe you and want you to leave.”

Jongdae groans. “ _Again_?”

“Points for persistence, Kim Jongdae, but it’s late. I’m tired. I don’t want to wait up longer for the police to come arrest you.”

“Alright. Fine.” Jongdae gets to his feet. “Just do me one favor and _watch me leave_ , alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

That same Someone who had heard Jongdae’s whines about the rain must hear Minseok’s about his uninvited guest, because the rain lightened to a drizzle, a mist, and finally nothing but humidity when Jongdae leaves a second time.

“Oh, come on. This is so unfair!” Of course it would stop raining when he’s trying to prove a point. Don’t believe in magic, fine, but calling all users fakes and charlatans hits too close to home for Jongdae. His entire family are magic users; many of his friends are. Exposing magic isn’t taboo, per se, but it’s not necessarily welcome in the open, because of people who see it as dangerous but also because of people like Kim Minseok, who take something wonderful and destroy the simple pleasures that come from it.

“Good night, Kim Jongdae.” Minseok makes a show of closing and locking the back door and turns off the lights, leaving Jongdae in the dark.

“ _Now_ is when I could really use my cat skills of night vision,” he grumbles, picking his way to the front.

Thunder mumbles in the distance, and there’s electricity on Jongdae’s tongue. Maybe if he runs, he can make it home on two legs. Then in the morning, he can plan a way to prove to the would-be-if-he-believed mu that magic is still magic, even if he knows how it’s done.

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't turn out how I'd've liked, but it's partway there and more than what I'd intended.
> 
> "Raining Pain" is a reference to a campaign achievement/trophy in Call of Duty: Black Ops.
> 
> The final sentence is partly taken from A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett: “It's still magic even if you know how it's done.”


End file.
